Monday, November 9, 2009

Poetry Challenge

Prompt: Should ______

Should I fall?

I cling tightly to the branch, my grip weakening by the day.

Once a strong, silent green

now a vibrant, crisp orange

quickly fading.

With each wisp of the breeze my resolve weakens.

To hang on means

to live even if only

living dead.

Yet a voice in the wind keeps whispering that there is more.

To let go, to die to myself

would mean life

more abundantly.

My remains would nourish generations to come.

A life not wasted

but invested in others


A brilliant freedom pulsed within me as I soared through the air.

Isn’t this what leaves were created for?


1 comment:

Lynn Cross said...

beautiful. Lynn